Switzerland tells

The small castle Vaas, good rundown today, is located on Mount Lens, hillside, in a quiet and solitary website.

He was, in the eighteenth century, la demeure d’un « grand châtelain », but, in its construction, indicates a much earlier origin. Its dented and covered with a layer of ice cement walls are very curious frescoes recalling scenes of feudal times. One sees the serfs plowing, under the eye of the lord and lady, horsemen and overlapping doublet, a beefeater standing guard at the door of the castle, an owl under eaves and more dragons, hideous monsters decorating the windows. These paintings so rough and cracked will soon disappear if the brush of an artist does not come, shortly, seek to reconstruct.

Therefore, before the time when the great lord Lamon was owner of this former stronghold, which had to be, probably, a lordship of Anniviers, this rustic castle was, the late twelfth century, a summer residence of Sir Morestel, co-lord of Barns and vidome Bagnes, roach one 1334. The family died a few years later, and the castle was put up for sale to pay the debts of his latest offspring, Morestel Perrod, roach one 1366.

It was bought by a silent and dark stranger one day was found hanged in the middle of the great room. The castle was put up for sale by the heirs.

Two buyers were in attendance. The first was a man of a detestable reputation, including chronic has not preserved the name, but was considered a disbeliever. By dint of money and intrigue, he managed to oust his rival Bocquillard, and immediately took possession of its new home.

Mal rent in prit, since the first night he spent in the castle, he had to convince himself that he was haunted by evil spirits that would make him stay not.

En effet, he was just lying and lamp off, he saw, à la faveur de la lune, a spectrum swinging ceiling, suspended from an iron hook. Then, making an effort to remove this horrible vision, he turned against the alley, wrapped in his blankets. But as soon as he began to doze, that his room was invaded by a beefeater who prided himself on the point of his weapon, by knights riding around his bed, by the mournful cries of an owl posted on the window and long and terrifying dragons coming out of the wall to come prepare their ugly heads at the bedside.

The second night was even worse: rats a frightening size crept along the woodwork, a minstrel played his viola on a stool, chanting gestures hangman who continued to swing, hideous, the middle of the room. And nights succeeded in this infernal comedy. Le bonhomme en en séchait et n’osait rien dire.

C’en était trop, et comme le nouveau châtelain n’avait aucune foi dans les exorcismes il se décida, de guerre lasse, à abandonner son château. Dans ce but, il proposa à son concurrent de lui revendre le castel à bas prix, prétextant son intention de quitter le pays pour aller guerroyer sous les étendards du Comte Vert.

Le marché fut conclu, bien que le nouvel acheteur flairât quelque piège de la part du rusé propriétaire. Et quelques jours plus tard, Bocquillard prenait possession du château.

Bocquillard était un brave homme, laborieux, juste, et d’une piété à toute épreuve; la conscience tranquille, il vivait, partant, très heureux.

However, la première nuit qu’il passa au château, dans la grande chambre, fut très mauvaise. Le spectre du pendu, comme auparavant, apparut dès l’extinction du feu, et se balança à son crochet, tandis que le sabbat recommençait de plus belle.

Bocquillard alluma sa lampe et se mit à réciter son rosaire. Tout disparut incontinent, et le nouveau châtelain passa toute la nuit en prières.

The next, pensant avoir enfin chassé les mauvais esprits, Bocquillard se coucha sans aucune crainte. Mais il n’avait pas éteint sa lumière que le spectre reparut avec son cortège de dragons, de chouettes, de chevaliers et de hallebardiers dansants. Le pauvre homme ralluma son crésus, reprit son rosaire et recommença prières et litanies. Tout s’évanouit aussitôt comme un jet de vapeur. Cette situation intenable exigeait d’avoir recours aux moyens suprêmes. Bocquillard résolut donc d’aller confier son cas au Prieur de Lens, et de lui demander de venir conjurer les mauvais esprits.

Mais un certain amour-propre le retint, and, avant de tenter cette ultime démarche, il songea à user d’un stratagème peu banal, mais qui, grâce à du courage et à du sang-froid, devait le délivrer de l’empire du démon.

Quand la troisième nuit arriva, Bocquillard suspendit sa lampe à un clou voisin du crochet où le revenant venait se suspendre. Il monta sur un escabeau, attacha au crochet une corde qu’il se passa autour du cou, prit l’attitude d’un pendu, souffla sur sa lampe et attendit bravement l’arrivée du spectre. Celui-ci apparut bientôt sur le seuil de la chambre, but, voyant sa place occupée, il ne douta pas que ce ne fût lui-même qui était là, et s’écria d’une voix gutturale: « Ah! j’y suis déjà ! », puis il disparut en poussant un grognement.

Dès ce jour, le revenant ne revint plus jamais, et le brave Bocquillard put jouir en toute paix de la juste possession de son château.

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